


most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs

by xoxogossipwolf



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-13 12:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11184723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxogossipwolf/pseuds/xoxogossipwolf
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a detective with the NYPD, last year his squad took down a syndicate of crooked city officials known as HYDRA.When a body washes up in a Brooklyn shipyard it becomes apparent that HYDRA was bigger than even they knew.





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> idek i was itching to write a detective au so here we are

“What the fuck am I looking at here?” Bucky asks, bending down to inspect the body. Natasha is standing above him, wearing a disgusted look on her face. “Is this an actual fuckin’ HYDRA symbol. I thought we dealt with this bullshit last year.” Bucky growls, breath steaming out in front of him. It was eight am and his hands were freezing. 

Bucky turns from the body, entire body tensed in anger, fists clenched to keep them from shaking. “Fuck’s sake.” Natasha sighs and motions to the crime scene tech, who scurries over and covers the body with a sheet. 

“You heard what that piece of shit Schmidt said when we took him and the others down, that it wasn’t over. That we couldn't have possibly gotten all of them. Guess he wasn’t just talking out of his ass, we really don't know how far this corruption runs.” Natasha studies him, eyes shrewd, Bucky feels himself go somehow tenser at her assessing look. “So? Your shit together enough to be able to work this?” Nat’s words are harsh but her eyes are gentler.

Bucky rolls his shoulders, blocking out the onslaught of mental images that want to barrage him. He closes his eyes, counts to ten, breathes in and out slowly. He opens his eyes and looks at his partner. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.” His fingers are itching for a cigarette and his jaw is aching from being clenched so tightly. 

“So, what do we have so far?” Bucky asks, mentally steeling himself. “Vic’s name is Jasper Sitwell, COD looks to be a bullet to the brain but we’ll let the ME tell us for sure.” Natasha’s grin is wry and fierce. “Guess he’s either HYDRA or pissed someone off. You think this could be a copycat? Someone getting their jollies off by pretending to be a nazi?” Bucky asks her, not really believing anything he's saying. Nat gives him a look that could curdle milk. 

She looks at him long enough for him to shift on his feet, then she shrugs. “Maybe. That coin left on top of the bullet hole in his head doesn’t turn out to be nazi gold, yeah maybe. Otherwise, I’m going to go with a hard no. Where do these fuckers even get nazi goddamn gold?” 

Bucky sighs, taps the cigarette box in his pocket but doesn't draw one out. “I really don’t want to deal with this shit again, really don't Nat.” Natasha sighs, long and drawn out. “Yeah, think of the paperwork.” Bucky almost chuckles at that. “Okay. Okay, let’s go bust some HYDRA doors down.”

*

Bucky dials Tony from the car, fingers tapping the steering wheel impatiently as he listens to the ringing. “Yeah?” Tony answers sounding as if he was just woken up, and possibly hungover. “Need to you to get me info on one Jasper Sitwell.” Tony groans, long and annoying. Bucky is tempted to hold the phone away from his ear. “It's, what time is it even?” Bucky looks at his dash clock quickly. “8:30, Tony. Wake the fuck up, your civic duty calls you.” 

Tony groans again, and Bucky is pretty sure he hears pissing in the background. “It's Sunday, usually my civic duty can wait until I’m actually on the clock.” Bucky resists the urge to scream at Tony, he doesn’t know about HYDRA yet, no need to yell at his best computer nerd. “It's HYDRA, Tony. Can't wait till Monday.” Bucky hears a toilet flush and Tony curse. “Okay. I got it, I’ll get back to you ASAP.” The line goes dead, Bucky throws his phone in his cup holder.

He and Nat stop at their usual diner before heading to the precinct. “Hey, you need to tell Steve. He would want to know.” Natasha tells him, dropping a sweetener in her black coffee. Bucky nearly spills his. He hadn’t even thought of what he’d tell his husband. Hell, he hadn’t even thought of Steve at all, the shock of this morning almost killing him and all.

But Natasha is right, if anyone deserves to know, it’s Steve. Bucky nods, like he’s known this all along. “He doesn’t deserve this shit, you know? Fights them overseas and then he comes home and they’re still here. Like cockroaches.” 

Natasha looks at him, head cocked. “You don’t deserve it either, given what happened last time we crossed paths with them.” Bucky feels his hackles rise, the urge to snap at Natasha rearing up in him, ugly and dark.

He really is not in the mood to relive past traumas this morning, thank you very much. 

“Jesus Nat, I really don’t want to talk about this shit.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I wasn’t asking you to. I was pointing something out, I’m not your goddamn therapist, Barnes.” Bucky sighs. “Sorry.” Natasha tosses her wooden stirrer in the trash, and shrugs. “Speaking of therapists. You oughta make an appointment with yours.” Bucky grunts, shouldering open the cafe door, relishing in the biting New York air, and says nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have nooooo clue where i'm going w this

Natasha’s right, Bucky knows she’s right, and he can be pissed off about that if he wants to. He also really really needs to talk to Steve.

*

Tony is at the precinct when he and Nat walk in, sitting at his desk, face washed in blue by his computer monitor. His eyes glance to the door when it opens and he stands up when he sees them. “Hoooly fuck. Holy fuck.” Is all Tony can manage to say when he stands in front of them, he’s holding a file of considerable size. “This guy Sitwell? He was one of HYDRA’s like. Medium sized goons, right? Okay he wasn’t up there with like Schmidt but he sure was a stinking piece of shit.” Tony says all of this very fast, and he’s gesticulating with the folder in his hand, a sheaf of paper dangerously close to falling out.

“Decaf time, Tony. How many cups of coffee have you had?” Natasha tells him grabbing the file and thrusting it at Bucky. Tony snorts. “I don't know, five or so. I'm hungover, who cares. Anyway. So, Sitwell was never overseas with the HYDRA ground soldiers he was more an at home company man, I guess. Money laundering, embezzlement, racketeering, light espionage. He never got his hands bloody so far as we know, and when all the HYDRA shit leaked he scurried off to places unknown. Until washing up in a Brooklyn shipyard apparently.”

Tony’s chest heaves once he’s finished talking and his eyes looks slightly manic, Bucky resists the urge to check Tony's pulse to see if it's going as fast as he thinks it is.

“Seriously, Tony. Decaf time. Jesus. This is great, thank you for this.” Bucky tells him, patting Tony on the back as he makes his way over to his desk. The file contains a more detailed list of Sitwell’s crimes, his bank records, Bucky lets a whistle out at that one. So that’s how he fucked off for a year without the police or the feds finding him. But _how_   exactly did someone find him, and why did they kill him? More importantly was it a HYDRA friendly or someone exacting revenge, and why the fuck the gold coin that was essential to HYDRA’s MO.

"Hey, Nat we send that coin off to the lab to check if its real nazi gold?" Bucky calls over to Natasha. "Yeah, should get the results in a day or so." Bucky nods, going back to the file. 

Bucky could feel a headache starting to form at his temples, and he knew when he was flipping through the file without really reading any of the info that he was just putting off telling Steve. Bucky sighed, and stood waving his hand to get Nat’s attention again. She looked up at him and arched one perfect brow. He mouthed _Steve_ and she nodded and waved her hand.

 _Meet me on the bench in front of the hospital?_ Bucky pulls his phone out and quickly shoots the text to Steve, who responds as he’s walking towards his destination.

 _I’ll be waiting, with coffee_. Steve doesn’t ask him if everything is okay, for which Bucky is supremely grateful. He figures Steve already knows something is up because Bucky can count on one hand (the non-prosthetic one) the number of times he’s visited Steve at the hospital, they make him really queasy, sue him.

*

Steve is looking down at his phone, two cups of coffee at his side, and Bucky’s heart feels a million times lighter by just looking at him. As if by some omniscient ability Steve looks up and straight at Bucky, face splitting into a wide grin and Bucky can’t stop his answering one.

“Hey.” Steve greets him, peck on the lips and passes him the coffee. “Hi.” Bucky accepts the cup and delights in the warmth and aroma. “I’m working a double, Riley’s having a really bad day so Sam called in to stay with him.” Bucky nods, looks at Steve’s wide blue eyes. “I assume something happened, you have that constipated look on your face you get when you need to say something but you’d rather be punched in the nose.” Steve’s tone is unbearably fond and Bucky’s answering snort is wildly ungraceful.

“Yeah okay. Body washed up and the vic was a HYDRA goon, figure you oughta know, given everything that went down last year and when you were over there.” Steve’s gasp is small, but it's a tell. “Fuck.” Bucky’s is scraping a nail on the edge of his cardboard coffee sleeve. “Yeah. Can’t fucking catch a break, can we Stevie?” Steve’s hand snakes out to grasp Bucky’s, fingers squeezing tight. “You alright?”

Bucky contemplates the question, and the best way to phrase his answer. In the end he shrugs. “Not really, I’m still pretty fucked up from last year. And I’m pissed off because I thought we were finally rid of these cockroaches. Yet we’re back on the roller coaster for another go round, and goddamn I really want to get off this ride, Steve.” Steve drags Bucky’s head to his shoulders, and fuck Bucky’s nose is _not_ stinging because he does _not_ feel his eyes tearing up, no sir.

“I’m going to say something and it's probably going to piss you off but whatever. I’m your husband and I reserve that right.” Bucky tenses slightly but doesn’t lift his head. “You don’t have to work this, you can hand it off.” Bucky does lift his head at that and gives Steve a withering look. Steve only shrugs in response.

“Yeah, I know you’d never go for that but I figured you needed to know you have that option.” Steve kisses Bucky’s forehead. “I gotta see this thing through the end doll, you know that.” Steve nods, takes a sip of his coffee. “I know.” 

Bucky kisses Steve on the mouth, soft and sweet. “I gotta get back, and you do too. I’ll see you at home.” They both stand and embrace, Steve’s grip only slightly vice like. “Love you, jerk.” Bucky grins into Steve’s soft wool jacket. “Love you too, punk.”


	3. Chapter 3

"Anything happen while I was gone?" Bucky asks Tony and Nat when he gets back to the station, who are standing with their heads huddled. "Kind of." Natasha nods her head towards an olive skinned middle aged woman by his desk.

"Sitwell's sister, apparently." Tony says, tone skeptical. Bucky scrutinizes Tony with his eyes narrowed. "You have doubts?" Bucky asks. Tony shrugs. "Doesn't seem legit and she definitely seems like she has murdered people in her lifetime."

Bucky looks at the woman, who is wearing a tight pencil skirt and silk blouse, spiky heels that looked suspiciously like knife points. "Okay, I guess I'll talk to her." He gives Nat a pointed look that turns into a glare when she only shrugs in return.

"Hi, Miss Sitwell, I presume?" Bucky starts, and the woman gives him a glare. "You say that as if your colleagues weren't just informing you who I was." She tells him, eyes shrewd and calculating and it takes everything in Bucky not to shiver at her icy tone. He gives a smile he wonders looks as strained as it feels.

"Right. Of course, sorry." She gives a stunted nod. "You've gone to the morgue and claimed your brother's body?" Bucky asks her in what he hopes is a gentle way. She nods, her fist coming up to her mouth as if overcome with emotion. It feels false in a way Bucky can only assume is his experience as seeing grief in its many forms.

"Would you possibly be up for answering a few questions, Miss Sitwell?" She nods again. "Yes. Whatever will help you catch the monster who did this to poor Jasper." Bucky narrows his eyes. "Miss Sitwell, I assume you know about the rumors surrounding your brother? Concerning a terrorist organization known as HYDRA?" Her eyes turn steely. "Lies and slander, detective, my brother was a good man." Bucky weighs his words.

"Okay, I'm only telling you what I know, or have been told." He tells her. "Well your information is mistaken." She snaps. "When was the last time you had heard or spoken to Jasper, ma'am?" She sighs. "It's been over a year, ever since that nonsense came out, he went into hiding, I suppose. I like to think he was working on a way to clear his name." Bucky nods, extremely doubtful.

"There's nothing you can tell me about his acquaintances, work colleagues, significant others?"

"There was one man, I don't know what exactly he was to my brother, but his name is Brock Rumlow. He always gave me the creeps, to be honest. I never liked the looks of him." She said primly, and in that moment Bucky genuinely believed this to be Jasper Sitwell's concerned sister, but the name sent a spike of fear and doubt into him.

"Ma'am, are you not aware that Brock Rumlow was a cop that was on HYDRA's payroll?" Anger flashed in her eyes but she quickly covered it. "No, sir I'm sorry I'm afraid I don't know nearly as much as I thought about my dear brother. Bucky sighed. "Of course, the people we are closest to often deceive of the best, don't they?"

He certainly wasn't going to mention to her that Brock fuckin' Rumlow was his first partner when he was a beat cop, but he felt like she already knew that. If his suspicions were correct and she was a HYDRA mook, she probably did.

He wondered for a moment if she was feeding him a false breadcrumb, or trying to scare him with the name.

"Can you tell me anything about Rumlow? Did you ever meet him?" Gloria Sitwell sighed. "I'm afraid not, Jasper was very secretive. I only saw him exiting Jasper's apartment once and when I asked my brother about it he wouldn't say anything besides that they were colleagues." Bucky gnashed his teeth together, she wasn't going to give him anything else. On purpose or otherwise.

"Right, of course. Thank you for your time, do you have a number I can reach you at if I have any more questions?" He passed her a pad of paper and a pen. She looked at them doubtfully for a moment, and then picked the pen up and scrawled a phone number out. Bucky smiled at her, not touching the pen.

"Is there anything at all you can tell me? Any developments on this case? I'm oh so worried, and I'm afraid closure wont be possible unless I know exactly who did this to my brother, and to know that they are brought to justice." Bucky sighed, feeling as if everything he felt so far was just confirmed with these well timed, seemingly harmless words. She was fishing, he was sure of it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm not allowed to say anything about open cases, I hope you understand." Her lips turned into the beginnings of a snarl, which she covered with a grimace and a nod.

Bucky stood, and she followed his lead. She was precisely his height and he resisted the urge to shiver when she peered directly into his eyes, searching for something it felt like. She smiled again, this time steely and cold. She held her hand out. "Thank you for speaking with me, detective. I appreciate it, I hope you let me know if you catch the man who did this."

Bucky shook her hand, her long sharp nails dug into his hand. "I'll do my best, ma'am."

She turned on her spiky, spiky heels and left the precinct, ominous tapping only stopping when the large wooden door closed behind her. Bucky let out a loud exhale, feeling like he needed a shower.

"So that was creepy as fuck. What do we know about her?" Bucky asked, looking over at Tony and Nat, who were pretending to be working, but he knew they heard every word that was exchanged.

"Uh, not much. I ran a background check, dug around in her life a bit, you know. Respecting civilian privacy, and all." Tony started. "Honestly? Gloria Sitwell probably doesn't exist, I found the bare minimum on her. Birth certificate, high school diploma, no college attended. Louboutin heels and silk shirts do not come cheap, and I couldn't actually find any employment records on her. I don't know who that lady was but she gave me the massive heebie jeebies and I'll bet the contents of my extremely sizable bank account that she works for the remnants of HYDRA."

Bucky drummed his fingers on his desk, regretting letting Gloria Sitwell walk out of his sight even for a moment. "I want a tail on her, I want to know where she goes and who she meets with." Bucky tells Nat. She rolls her eyes but nods. "Okay, I'll go tail the scary lady, I'm calling Clint to join me." Bucky nods. "Good, let me know if anything happens, I want to know about anything even a hair suspicious, okay?" Nat rolls her eyes. "Yes, boss." She salutes him but pats his shoulder on her way to catch up with her target.

Bucky plucks a plastic bag from his desk drawer and drops the pen in it. "I'm going to see if I can get a print pulled off this." Tony's face lit up. "Hey look at you, actual detective work." Bucky rolls his eyes and flips Tony off.

"Although, her prints are probably all burned off." Tony throws out.

 "So, Brock Rumlow." Tony starts. Bucky places his face in his hands. "God help me." Tony snorts. "I think God's taking a smoke break, pal. You're on your own." Bucky flips Tony off again.

"It can't possibly be a coincidence that Public Enemy Number One is involved somehow, I don't think Miss Sitwell would have dropped that name out of her ass. She has to know something we don't, but why come in and tell us at all?" Tony wonders.

"Maybe to throw us of whatever trail her mooks are leaving behind. So do we think Rumlow defected when HYDRA went underground or do we think she's playing a different angle, maybe for another mysterious shadowy organization?" Bucky muses.

"The CIA?" Tony tosses out. Bucky snorts, shrugging. "Anything is possible."

Why come and talk to the police? What good could that come of for her?

"Do you think bought us believing that she was our vic's sis?" Bucky asks Tony, who is fiddling with a pen. "Nah, boss she clocked you. For lying being a considerable part of your job you're not too great at it. Also, I'm sure whatever spooky training HYDRA gives out helps."

"Hey, can you run facial recognition on her? Maybe she'll pop up somewhere." Tony sighs, as if sitting on his ass is a laborious task.

"You got it, I'll let you know if anything pops." Bucky nods, formulating a plan in his head. "Okay. Thanks. I'm gonna go see if I can find the rock Rumlow is hiding under and kick the fuck out of it."

Tony looks at him, with a slightly worried expression on his face. "Alone? Its been a year, Barnes. What rocks could you kick that we haven't?"

Bucky clenches his fist. "I don't know, Tony. But goddamn if I'm just going to sit on my ass and do nothing."

Tony sighs and Bucky looks at him sharply. "I think you're too close to this one boss, and I think you know why I think that. And I think going after Rumlow on your own is a spectacularly shitty idea."

Bucky rubs his hand across his cheek roughly, and looks at his watch. Quarter past ten.

"Fine. I'll go home, see my husband, sleep a bit, maybe even go to that therapy appointment I booked, and then I'll go kick some rocks. Maybe take Nat with me, huh? That sound better guru Tony?"

"Ah, see a somewhat coherent plan, and hopefully one that doesn't end with a bullet in your skull."

Bucky flinches and Tony sees the regret flash across Tony's face immediately. "Fuck. I didn't mean it like that." Not an actual apology, but when did Tony Stark actually apologize for anything.

"Sensitive as ever, Tony. I'm going home, let me know if you get anything from facial or the pen." Tony nods, sending Bucky off with a wave and a guilty look.

*

Steve is sitting up in bed, reading when Bucky gets home. There are dark circles under his eyes and his blonde hair is fluffy and soft looking. The sight of him sends a shot of relief through Bucky.

Steve smiles at him softly and sets the book down. "Hi." Bucky grins and sits on the bed beside him. "Alright?" Steve asks. Bucky works on taking his boots off.

"Yeah. All good, work okay?" Steve nods, watching as Bucky peels his jeans off, soft look on his face. "Yep, long and my feet are killing me but it was alright." Bucky squeezes Steve's feet under the covers. "Want a foot rub, doll?" Steve grins, wiggling his toes.

"Nah, I just wanna sleep, I got the day off tomorrow. Gonna catch up on laundry, maybe make a lasagna." Bucky's stomach growls at the thought of Steve's cooking and Steve's face breaks out in a wide grin. "Good to know its appreciated." Steve laughs.

"Sweetheart, your cooking is always appreciated. I don't see how you got the energy for it when you spend all day saving lives." Steve rolls his eyes. "Thought that was your job." Bucky shrugs, climbing on Steve's lap in only his boxers.

"Hey, who says there's only one type of hero, dollface?" Steve grins and kisses Bucky, rolling him off of him. "No one, probably." Bucky grins from his side of the bed. "I'm so tired, Steve. This HYDRA bullshit. I gotta brush my teeth."

Bucky cleans his teeth and looks at his face in the mirror, stubble coating his cheeks and chin. The dark circles under his eyes looking deep and dark. He sighs and splashes water on his face, feeling weary to his bones.

Steve turns the lamp off and the room is bathed in the soft orange glow of the streetlamp when Bucky is settled on their bed.

"I hate that you're working this Buck, but I get it. I do. Still hate it. I hate what its doing to you." Bucky sighs, reaching for Steve's hand. Steve brings it up and slots their fingers together.

"I'll be alright, Stevie. I got an appointment with the head shrinker in the a.m. I'll be alright, you know me. Just gotta get through this one." Steve squeezes his hand, kisses him on the nose.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky wakes up to the aroma of coffee and bacon frying, he grins as he rolls over in the bed. Steve’s spot is cool by now, but his pillow still carries the scent of his shampoo. He brings it closer to his face and lies still for a few moments, waking up.

He’s still in this position when Steve walks in, looking refreshed. “Morning, Buck. Coffee?” Bucky gratefully accepts the steaming mug with a delighted smile. “Thanks, Stevie.” Steve sits on the bed, watching Bucky.

“I got some drool on me or somethin?” Bucky swipes at his face. “Nah, just admiring the view.” Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes. He takes a sip of coffee and groans in appreciation. “I don’t know how you make coffee like this, every time I try it tastes like garbage bean juice.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs, full and throaty. “Yeah, well. You are a cop, isn't that in your contract that you gotta make shitty coffee.” Bucky grins and leans over to kiss Steve.

Steve cups Bucky’s cheek. “Still seeing the doc this morning?” Bucky nods, and Steve kisses him again and then goes back to the kitchen. Bucky sighs and stands, resigned to the fact that his day unfortunately, has started.

He stares at his bed longingly as he grabs his soft, fluffy robe and puts it around his body. He grabs his phone and walks to the kitchen, sighing at the messages from Nat, Clint, and Tony.  

Natasha’s reads. _Faux Sitwell is boring af. Picked up expensive shit from dry cleaners, went 2 weird vegan salad bar thing, then went to fancy penthouse to presumably lie in a coffin for 8 to 10 hrs. No outward murder plots as far as we can tell._  

Clint’s is pretty similar with more typos.

Tony’s is far more interesting. _labs came back and coin found on sitwell’s 4head was genuine nazi gold facial recog still running w no hits so far sry about last nite boss_

Bucky wondered briefly if Gloria Sitwell was exactly as she said was and his instincts were just shot to shit. Shaking his head, he put his phone in his pocket and sat at the island.

Steve sits a plate of food in front of him and Bucky’s stomach growls, and he tries to think of the last time he ate. Lunch yesterday? Fuck, he was losing his shit. Maybe he _should_ say fuck it and hand this case off.

He picked up a piece of toast and sighs, knowing that that was as likely as Steve saying ‘no thanks’ to someone who looked in the slightest way inconvenienced, walking up to him asking for help.

“Thanks for breakfast.” He tells Steve, voice full of emotion. Jesus, Barnes its just bacon, get a grip.

“I know you’re going through a lot of shit, just trying to lighten your load, sweetheart.” Bucky feels misery slice through him. He really, really doesn’t deserve Steve.  

“Hey, get that look off your face, Buck.” Steve tells him and lays his hand over top of his. Bucky looks up at him and for one horrible second he feels like he’s going to cry. Instead he counts to five, takes a few deep breaths, and squeezes Steve’s hand.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Therapy sessions always get me in a bit of a funk, gonna get my shit picked over, bare my soul and all. It's rough.”

Steve looks at him. "You up for it?" Bucky shrugs, then nods. He has to be, and despite his reluctance pouring his shit onto someone else, someone qualified, helps. 

“Okay, I’m just worried about you. Talk to me, if you need to? Bounce the case off me if it’ll help.” 

Bucky shakes his head, they’ve had this talk before. “I don’t wanna dredge this shit back up for you.” Steve gives him a steady look, like he thought Buck was the biggest idiot in Brooklyn. “I was the one who brought this mess to _your_ doorstep in the first place, we’re in the shit together hotshot. Only yours being in a more official capacity.”

“I know that, and I’m not trying to say you don’t know what it's like. I just don’t want you thinking about it or worrying more than is absolutely necessary.” Steve sighs. “Pal, I’m gonna worry about you. No matter what, just gotta fill in the blanks if you don’t tell me. And since we both know me, it ain't gonna be good shit.”

Bucky scrubs a hand across his face and aggressively takes a bite of toast. “Goddamn dramatic, is what you are Rogers.” Steve laughs and takes a piece of Bucky’s bacon, wide smile on his face. “Yeah well, you married me.” Bucky doesn’t even try to stop Steve from taking another piece once he shoves the first one into his mouth.

Bucky sighs. “Not much has happened, got a tail on a lady who says she’s Sitwell’s sister but something about her is. Off, I guess. I don’t think she’s who she says she is, and Nat and Tony are suspicious too. But Tony is suspicious of a cup of coffee that doesn’t taste like jet fuel, so. She mentioned Rumlow when we talked, and that’s got me going a little nuts. How does she _know_ that fucking _name_ if she’s not a HYDRA fucker.”

Bucky finishes with a heavy exhale. Steve’s face looks like he just smelled year old milk. _“Jesus.”_ Is what he says. Steve stands up, hands raking through his hair. “Fucking Brock fuckin’ Rumlow.” Steve slams his hands down on the counter, breathing through his nose.

Bucky jumps and Steve’s face falls. “I’m sorry.” Steve comes over to him, falls to his knees. “Sorry Buck.” Steve puts his head on Bucky’s knee, Bucky places his hand on Steve’s head. “That’s alright, doll. I know you’re pissed, it's understandable.” Steve looks up and has a tiny sad smile on his face. 

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Bucky says quietly. “But I’m glad I know.” Steve tells him. “Has he even been seen since the whole shit show last year?”

Bucky stands, walks over to the window, opens it and climbs onto the fire escape, Steve follows him. Bucky pulls a pack of smokes out of the flower pot housing a dead plant. He lights one, and draws smoke into his lungs.

“No. No one’s spotted him, he’s wherever he fucked off to. She just mentioned that they were. I don’t know, fucking? I asked if he had any significant others and she mentioned him. So I don’t know what she was implying.” Bucky takes another drag, flicks some ashes.

“I think she was just trying to get the name out there, the context didn’t matter all that much. I don’t like that they had contact, I guess it was too much for him to be hit by a fucking bus or something.” 

Steve’s presence at his side is warm and solid, he puts an arm around Bucky’s waist, presses his cold nose into his neck. “I’m going to look for him today, turn over some rocks. Get in touch with some old contacts. I figure you oughta know.” Steve sighs into his neck. “God, Buck. Christ.”

“I know, okay. And I’m sorry. But it's gotta be me.” Steve doesn’t say anything, just tightens his arm around Bucky’s waist. Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “I need to get dressed, doll. Got an appointment in half an hour.” Steve kisses Bucky’s neck with his cold lips and then kisses Bucky’s cold lips. “Love you. Be safe.” Bucky stubs his smoke out and takes Steve’s face in his hands. “I love you. Have a good day at work.” Bucky kisses him one more time.

*

The cream walls of his therapist’s office always seemed to fill Bucky with a mixture of emotions, and he’s not sure he'd be able to pinpoint any of them, if asked.

Bucky clears his throat as he sits. Doctor Banner, _call me Bruce if it makes you more comfortable_ , is sitting in his huge purple chair, radiating serenity.

Bucky feels the need to jiggle his leg.

“How have you been sleeping?” Bruce asks him, glasses sliding down his nose. Bucky knows what the dark circles beneath his eyes look like. “Uh. Shitty, lot shittier than usual. The ambien knock me out but don’t keep me out.”

Bruce nods, jotting down something on his green notepad. “Steve and Nat told me I needed to make an appointment, which obviously I already knew. So. Here we are.”

Bruce looks at him calmly. Bucky resists the urge to duck his head, the doctor’s dark eyes feeling like they were stripping away every protective layer Bucky ever put around himself. To say it made him jittery was an understatement.

“Has something happened at work?” Bruce asks.

“Yeah. HYDRA is back. Or they never left. I don’t know. Got another body with the same MO they used to get rid of people that got in their way. ‘Cept this time the vic was a mook of theirs. So. I don’t know if they’re still cleaning house after the leak or if there’s a whole management change or what. Sorry. Too much.” Bucky says all of this in a rush.

Bruce just shakes his head. “It's what I’m here for, if you need to speak about it that’s fine.” Bruce gives him a gentle smile.

Bucky rubs his hands across his face. “It's so frustrating, I thought this shit was put in a box and filed away.”

“Trauma doesn’t work like that, James.” Bruce tells him gently. Bucky nods. “I know. Wish it did.”

Bruce’s smile is gentle. “Don’t we all?”

Bruce watches him patiently, giving him time to collect his thoughts. “You know the hardest part about all this shit?” Bruce shakes his head.

Bucky takes a deep breath, blows out of his nose harshly, and begins. “I bake in the desert for two fucking tours and I get back, and my sleep is a bit worse and I’m a bit thinner and a bit jumpier than usual but largely I’m fucking. Fine, I guess. Not too bad, not _too_ traumatized, okay.” He lets out a dry, bitter laugh. 

“Shit. I get home and I go back to work, get my detective shield because that’s what I’ve wanted, ever since my mom died, wanted to carry on her legacy, I guess. Anyway. Fast forward a little bit, my own partner turns out to be working for a nazi terrorist organization that has it's poisonous claws all in the city.” Bucky breathes out loudly through his nose.

“And naturally, because my life is a shitty dime store spy thriller, I get kidnapped by the same shitstains I’m working so hard to bring down. Get held for four days in a shitty, cold warehouse and fuckin' tortured.”  Bucky breathes out wetly.

“I thought I was going to die in there.” His voice breaks at the end.

Bruce is silent and when Bucky looks at him, his face is careful and blank. Bucky waits until his breathing is somewhere in the vicinity of normal before trying to speak.

“This whole shit storm is just dredging all that back up. I didn’t know it was going to affect me this badly and it's making me feel weak and fucking I hate it.” Bucky spits.

“You went through a major trauma, feeling that and letting it affect you doesn’t make you weak.” Bruce tells him.

Bucky doesn’t get a chance to respond before his phone rings. He sighs and digs it out of his pocket, it's Nat. “Barnes.”

In lieu of a greeting Nat says. “We found Rumlow.” Bucky feels his heart go into overdrive and feels ice slide down his spine.

“Where?” He hears talking in the background, but he can’t make out who the voices belong to.

Nat sighs over the phone. “The morgue. He’s got a bullet hole in about the same place as Sitwell. One guess to what else was found on the body.” 

“Nazi gold.” It isn’t a question.

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments/suggestions/criticisms/kudos appreciated!!!
> 
> thanks for reading!


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